Chapter Twenty-Five

A blast of ice-cold air forced the door open wider. It banged against the wall. Drifts of snow continued to rush in as Irene and Logan fought to close the door. The wind pushed back. Logan let out a roar of his own and slammed his shoulder against the door, sealing the entrance. Irene braced to hold the door shut while he pushed the crossbar down on the metal hooks. When it was secured, Irene leaned with her back against the wall, catching her breath.

A winter storm was not unusual in late December. Her weather app, however, had predicted a light dusting of snow, not a full-blown blizzard.

Irene rubbed her arms to get warm. “I wonder if the matchmakers will let us spend the night. My taxi driver promised he’d be here when the tour ended, but I can’t imagine he’d be able to make it out in this weather.”

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together, and he nodded. His gaze was still locked on the closed door.

When he didn’t respond she began to worry. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet. “What did you mean when you said that something wasn’t right?”

Logan brushed the back of his hand across his forehead and stepped away from the door. “I must be seeing things. I think it’s this place. That whole incident in the dungeon with Sam and the men he freed…and the fact that the castle and all its furnishings and tapestries are new rather than hundreds of years old. This feels too real. It’s messing with my mind.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Does that make sense?”

Irene knew that feeling all too well. They hadn’t talked very much about the men who’d tried to lock them in the dungeon. For her part, she hadn’t wanted to believe she and Logan had been in any real danger. She wanted to believe that it was all part of the tour experience the matchmakers talked about. But Logan had taken it seriously…

“You think Sam really meant to lock us in the dungeon?”

“And throw away the key,” Logan said.

“I did some reading about this place and the elaborate reconstruction over the centuries. Yet there’s no sign of it anywhere. Does that seem strange to you?”

“As strange as what I didn’t see outside just now. All the directional and informational signs that were visible when we came here earlier are missing.”

“Maybe they’re covered in snow or blew over.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “But did I mention there were at least twenty horses and men with bows and arrows aimed at the castle?”

She looked at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Perhaps they’re actors, planning a mock attack. The sisters talked about wanting to give our tour an experience we wouldn’t forget. Maybe it’s all part of the celebrations for Christmas Eve.”

Logan shook his head slowly. “Those men didn’t look like they were in a holiday mood. They looked like they were planning to storm the castle.”

“You’re overreacting. Maybe we both are.”

He rubbed the shoulder he’d used to slam the door closed. “First, you don’t look like the type, and second, do I look like someone who overreacts?”

“Well, no,” Irene said. “You look like someone who analyzes the pros and cons of any given situation.”

He nodded. “My mother used to say it was both a flaw and a blessing. If I’m unsure about something, I’ll examine every angle before I rush in. On the other hand, if I’m convinced down to my toes that something is right, I jump in with both feet. And right now I’m in the examining-all-angles stage. What I do suspect is that somehow Sam and those men he freed are involved, and it’s not good. It’s time we took a closer look.”

****

Irene and Logan had retraced their steps up the winding staircase to the landing where they had a clear view of the courtyard. Cold air seeped through the narrow opening before her, chilling Irene’s fingers. A storm raged, and the torchlight on the castle walls cast only a miser’s glow over the courtyard. Shadows moved and twisted in the strengthening wind, fueling her imagination. They looked like soldiers. Irene stamped down her overactive thoughts.

“I think what you saw was a trick of shadows,” Irene said hopefully. “No one would be out in this weather.”

“Only a person up to no good,” Logan added as he stood beside her.

Pinpricks of light moved amongst the shadows. She peered closer as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A flash of steel burned through the snowdrifts. The shadows increased in numbers as they moved toward the castle. The muffled sounds of marching moved with them. The shadows took shape. Men carrying torches were grouped together a short distance away. The men were armed with medieval weapons and shields. She might not understand what they were saying, but as they shook their fists at the castle, there was no denying their intentions. They were preparing for an attack.

The faint clip-clop gait of hooves over cobblestones echoed over the courtyard, and the outline of a horse-drawn wagon came into view. A man with a wide-brimmed hat that looked like it had been soaked in mud snapped the reins on the rump of the sway-backed animal and shouted something unintelligible.

Logan moved in closer beside her. “Can you hear what he’s saying?”

Irene shrugged. “Not a clue. His Scottish accent is too thick.”

A mangy dog sped out from behind the castle to nip at the horse’s hooves. The man with the hat reined in his horse and shouted at the dog to get out of the way. He flipped aside the tarp, exposing an assortment of shields, swords, long bows, and lances. Three men came from behind the wagon. They patted each other on the back as they each reached in and selected a weapon.

Irene sucked in her breath.

“What is it?” Logan said.

“I can’t see Sam, but the other three are the men he freed from the dungeon.”

“Get back from the window!” Bridget shouted. She stood poised on the steps, out of breath. Her face was flushed and her eyes wild with fear. Instead of waiting for Irene and Logan to respond, she pulled them away from the window. Her hand trembled as she readjusted her veil. “I’m glad I found you.” Her voice was thin and threaded with anxiety. “You’ll miss the Christmas carols. Come along, now.”

Irene knew a deflective tactic when she heard one. She’d had that strategy used on her more than once. Bridget was hiding something. She exchanged a glance with Logan. His expression seemed to mirror her own confusion. Something was going on, and it was clear that, whatever it was, Bridget was concerned.

Irene stood her ground. “Did you know there are men with bows and arrows aimed at the castle? I’m sure I recognized the men Logan confronted in the café earlier. The same men who were locked in a dungeon cell.”

Bridget turned as white as the snowstorm outside the walls. Her mouth compressed in a thin line. “They escaped? It’s worse than I thought. I told my sisters something like this might happen. You can’t break the rules. That’s the first rule.”